


Ties That Bind

by lofticries



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Five never travels to the apocalypse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pseudo-Incest, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-01-20 17:03:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18529354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofticries/pseuds/lofticries
Summary: "I am not your brother, I am not your lover." Five and Vanya grow up together. (on indefinite hiatus)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my slow-burn project that I've been working on since the beginning of April! Another "Five never travels to the apocalypse" AU. It's basically just an exploration of what his and Vanya's relationship could've been, with the assumption that they were each other's favorites. I want people to be aware that tags will be added with each chapter and the 'Underage' tag exists because there will be eventual smut scenes when they turn sixteen. The rating will change then but I just want everyone to know ahead of time.
> 
> This is all heavily influenced by Alex G's [Gnaw](https://igpitn.tumblr.com/post/183779082232/ikyim-please-dont-cry-i-am-not-your-brother-i) so maybe have a listen!

There is nothing but righteous indignation flowing through his veins when Five storms out of the house. He pushes open the gate with his blood boiling over The Monocle’s dismissal. How dare he. He’s ready. He’s _ready_ \- knows this with a staunch certainty like he knows Einstein’s theory of relativity. Five’s mastered space, how difficult can time be? They’re intrinsically linked, after all.

Five doesn’t know why he even bothered attempting to get permission from Reginald in the first place. He knows his powers best, after all. The old fool doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

His burning propels him forward, ready to run down the street, and leap forward into time, the his father’s warnings be damned. He’s ready! The future, the past, it’s all waiting for him. He just needs to step forward and take it. But there’s a soft cry of his name and he stops in his tracks, turning to see his favorite sibling, pale and worried, climbing down the doorsteps toward him.

Five isn’t one for sentiment but he finds that he’s touched by her presence, knowing that the old man is more likely to punish her for her disobedience than him. It makes him stop in his tracks, putting aside his heated ambition to see what she has to say. For Vanya’s small act of loyalty, it’s the least he can do.

Ultimately, she says nothing. Just offers him her hand, soft palm facing upwards. Five stares at it, turmoil starting to churn within him.

This isn’t the first time Five has made demands of The Monocle, it comes with the power hungry desire to use his abilities freely. And more often than not, Hargreeves punishes Five’s hubris by pushing him to his limits during training, exhausting him until he’s weak and vulnerable. In those moments of wretched frustration, Vanya soothes him with her quiet presence. A touch on his back, a squeeze of his hand. Small little gestures that help him retain his sanity.

Five wants to run. But he also wants to take his sister’s hand.

Vanya’s fingers intertwined with his are cool on his heated skin. It’s grounding and though the rage doesn’t completely disappear, it simmers down to a smaller fire. Much more manageable. He’s rewarded with one of her rare, brilliant smiles, relief and affection bleeding into one. Something unknown, warm and gentle, washes over him and the corners of his lips quirk up in response.

Before they return, Five takes one last look down the street. The urge to run is still there, to dive straight into the unknown, and prove that he is better than it. That he can conquer it. That urge will never go away.

But right now, the call to Vanya is stronger.

He follows her back inside, hand in hand.

 

* * *

 

Five is punished for his insolence from the morning with a particularly brutal training session. He’s on his knees, body trembling and gasping for air, while Reginald regards him with an icy cold demeanor. He’s been jumping nonstop for the past hour, no break, no mercy. His other siblings have stopped in their individual activities, to stare at him with varying degrees of pity and disbelief.

“Again, Number Five,” Reginald barks out, tapping his finger on his stopwatch impatiently. _Fuck you,_ Five thinks viciously. If he had the energy, he’d spit in the demented old man’s face.

Still, Five has never been one to say “I can’t do it.” It’s just not in his vocabulary. So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and attempts to jump. One more time. Just, one more damn time.

Seconds later, he finds himself on his back, blinking up at a concerned Ben’s face, Diego hollering for Mom in the distance. “What happened?” he mumbles as Ben helps him sit up. His head is spinning and his limbs feel like jelly. The contents of his stomach are rumbling, seconds away from being upheaved. Ben looks uncomfortable.

“You passed out,” he tells him. _Shit._ Dread overwhelms him, and he turns his head to see a very unsatisfied looking Hargreeves.

“Disgraceful,” he snaps. “Absolutely disgraceful. You haven’t mastered teleportation, and yet you want to time travel? You’ll only get yourself killed and you won’t be of use to anyone.”

Reginald’s words are like a slap to the face. Five clenches his jaw, refusing to show any emotion in response. He won’t give him the pleasure. He stares down his father, gaze burning as Grace approaches with Diego, a first-aid kit and giant water bottle in hand. Five wants to scream. This wouldn’t have happened if the stupid old man didn’t push his body to the limit. He did it on purpose, that damned sadist. Five’s mastered teleportation _fine._

“You’re dismissed,” Reginald turns away from him once Grace is at his side. “Come along, Number Two. Number Six. It’s time for you to spar.”

Ben’s face falls but pats Five on the shoulder, the only comfort he can afford to give, before rising and following their father. Diego shoots him a look that so obviously reads disapproval of his actions and how the only person Five has to blame for this predicament is himself.

Figures. Five knows he won’t get any sympathy from Number Two. Or Numbers One through Four. They’ve all been dealing with Reginald’s strict rules but Five is the only one who ever pushes at them, demanding to be able to exist outside of The Monocle’s ridiculous boundaries. And time after time, Five gets punished for it. They don’t understand that, preferring to indulge in their small rebellions in secret, acting like the soldiers Reginald expects to his face.

Five hates that. But, he can’t blame them. Not really.

Here’s the thing - he recognizes that they aren’t a normal family. Not by any means. It’s something he’s always known. Normal fathers don’t refer to their children by numbers. Normal fathers don’t mould their normal children into mini-soldiers. Normal fathers don’t force their children to keep going at something until they pass out. But there’s nothing normal about Reginald Hargreeves and every little bit of their upbringing can hardly be called “familial.”

“Think of me as your father if you must,” is the only thing he’s ever said in regard to his parental status. Five wonders if they would’ve been better off if they just referred to him as ‘Captain’ or something along those lines. Because that’s what he actually is. Not a father, but the leader of operations. The puppet master, tugging their strings in any which way he desires. The most fatherly thing he’s ever done is give them Grace; but even their A.I mother, in all her programmed love, is totally unconventional.

Speaking of Grace, she gently urges Five to his feet, guiding him back inside. “You just need some rest, darling,” she tells him. Five grunts in reply. He’s not like Diego - he never knows how to react to a “mother” that was built for them, all steel wiring and complex code.

She guides him to his room, giving him water and painkillers before leaving him to his brooding. Five’s still pissed, thinking about The Monocle. There’s nothing justified about what he did to Five, just petty retaliation for his rebellion.

“Regular kids just get grounded,” Klaus had said once when he and Five had gotten in trouble for sneaking out. Reginald robbed them of the team’s assistance in their next mission and the two of them had to deal with a sprained wrist and fractured ankle respectively.

He winces at the memory. Their life really is messed up.

Five is loath to admit ignorance in any respect but he truly doesn’t know what a family is supposed to actually be like. None of them do. Along with his totalitarian parental style, Reginald insists on home-school. Besides the occasional tutor, they aren’t able to interact with regular, normal people. People who know what a real family is like, who could maybe teach them how to be one. The Hargreeves live in a bubble outside of society, where societal rules seem to not apply. How else would they be able to live the way they do?

Lying in bed, he imagines what the public would think if they actually knew what went inside the Hargreeves mansion. The kind of training Hargreeves put them through and what they were subject to when they disobeyed. What a scandal that would be. No wonder the old man never lets them go outside. Their entire world is just this one square block.

Five grits his teeth. Screw that. One way or another, he was getting out of here.

 

* * *

  
Reginald forbids him from coming down to dinner, saying he’s to stay in his room until next morning’s breakfast. Five seethes for hours in his forced bed rest, filling up his notebook with calculations, most of them not making any sense at all. Wouldn’t it be poetic justice if he could time travel back to this morning and shove his fork up Reginald’s ass? _I did it, you asshole!_ Five would cry in victory, flipping off his siblings, and grabbing Vanya, making their escape out of the house.

But, once his anger fades away again and all he can feel is exhaustion, Five realizes something: he’s not ready. He despises the idea of admitting defeat or deferring to Reginald’s judgement but he needs to get stronger. He hates being stuck in bed but even worse, hates this feeling of not being able to use his power. The very idea of jumping is making him nauseous.

He never wants to feel this helpless ever again.

Before it’s lights out, Ben knocks on their combined wall to check on him. “Still alive?”

“Wish I was dead,” Five calls back and Ben laughs once until there’s silence again. Grace had come to serve him dinner on a platter but he’d picked at it sullenly, his appetite gone with his bad mood.

Five knows he should sleep but he’d passed out from exhaustion earlier and wasted the afternoon away. Now he’s wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, thinking over the possibility of time-traveling, and what exactly it would entail. Going through space is just opening a two way door - he steps in from one location, and ends up in another.

Somehow, he doesn’t think time will be as easy to master.

Midnight comes and he hears a two pairs of footsteps going upstairs, past his and Ben’s rooms up to the attic. Five rolls his eyes. Luther and Allison are not good at being subtle. Luther’s got nothing but bricks in his head but he’d expect his clever sister to be more careful.

Then again, Allison has never been careful when it comes to Luther.

It should be strange to the rest of them, but it’s something they’ve all accepted. The way those two look at each other, shooting glances over the dinner table, sneaking off whenever they get the chance… Five knows that it’s not the what regular siblings do. He doesn’t have to go outside to realize that.

The word ‘sibling’ defined by the Oxford dictionary, offspring sharing one or two parents; a brother or a sister. For all their lives, they’ve been told that they’re brother and sister. A team of siblings, destined to protect the world.

But Allison has never called Luther her brother, and Five supposes that’s always been their truth.

He remembers the first time those two got caught. Reginald had separated them and Luther’s punishment was taking meals alone in his room for a week.. Allison had spent the entirety of dinner with red eyes, Klaus and Vanya shooting anxious looks at her. Five had been divided between pity and derision - they should know better to mess around somewhere the old man could find them.

But he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what they did. At least, not for them. In a twisted way, Five thinks it makes sense.

To be frank, in this household, “brother” and “sister” are obsolete terms. They use them every day in reference to each other, mocking and teasing terms. "Thanks _sis_ ," Diego will drawl when Allison messes up on a mission. Klaus has a new "favorite brother" every day of the week. Grace refers to them as a family, but to Five, the words family, brother, and sister don’t hold any actual weight. They are almost empty words, without any real meaning attached. He’s not a fool. It’s not about the different blood running in their veins, it’s about the fact that they only have each other, to fill up all the spaces of human interaction. Their limited, controlled life doesn’t allow anyone else into it.

So if they have nobody else, who else could Allison possibly play house with? It makes sense, for her to latch onto Luther.

There was a brief time when they were younger, that Five can only recall very faintly, that they were truly able to be children. Yes there was training and lessons, but it was nothing as intense as they deal with now. And like regular children, they were able to have play time afterwards. They would make a fort on the couch and fall asleep together, one big puppy-pile of sprawled tiny limbs. Vanya’s laugh had been brighter back then and Ben didn’t shy away from the others as much. Five doesn't know if those memories actually happened or if they're just something his subconscious came up with to give himself the illusion of a childhood.

He does know this:

The others, Numbers One through Six, are his brothers and sisters. But Luther, Allison, Diego, Klaus, and Ben are also everything else. They are his rivals, his colleagues, his enemies, his teammates. They are part of his life forever, and perhaps they aren’t a “true” family in the traditional sense, but they’re _his_ regardless. The good, bad, and ugly, and it’s ugly _all_ the time.

But they’re where he belongs. Conventional sibling dynamics, be damned to hell.

The only who’s different is Vanya.

It’s strange. For the longest time, Five had wondered if because of their bond, Vanya was the only one he truly considered a sibling. The affection he held for her was strong enough that he would seek her out to spend time specifically with her.

Afternoons spent in the library together, her memorizing music sheets while he filled notebooks with equations. Evenings sneaking downstairs to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, his one sweet vice. Sneaking out when The Monocle went out on trips, to Griddy’s, to the convenience store, to the park, pretending they were just regular kids. His constant companion. His _favorite_ companion.

A knock on his door, quick and quiet, interrupts his thoughts. Five blinks in confusion as it opens, and a small figure darts inside.

Well. Speak of the devil, and she will appear. Vanya’s holding a plate with a sandwich with one hand and a glass of milk in the other. It’s dark but with the added moonlight, Five can see the small smile on her face.

Warmth blooms in his chest, the only positive feeling he’s felt all day. “I can’t stay long,” she whispers, sliding onto the edge of his bed. “I tried to come earlier but Dad kept walking around.” She passes him the plate and Five bites back a chuckle at what he sees.

Peanut and marshmallow. His one sweet vice.

“I already had dinner,” he tells her because ‘thank you’ seems to be stuck in his throat. But Vanya knows him, better than anyone else, and she just smiles in response.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Five doesn’t know what to tell her, how to explain his bone-heavy exhaustion and the anger that’s been simmering in him all day. He just reaches his hand out and she grabs it, squeezing lightly.

“I will be,” he says, evading the question. It’ll have to do. Besides, Five doesn’t want to think about today anymore. He just wants to hold her hand and eat his sandwich and enjoy the moment. Vanya understands the value of silence and she says nothing as he eats, running her fingers over his knuckles in soft motions.

She stays with him until he’s finished, taking away his plate and glass. Five’s tempted to ask her to stay longer, longing for her hand again, but doesn’t want to risk her getting in trouble. He doesn’t care what happens to him, but if Vanya got hurt… he wouldn’t forgive himself for that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she tells him quietly. Before she leaves, she brushes his hair from his forehead, gentle and careful. Five freezes a bit, not expecting the sudden touch. Vanya’s face is startled as well, as if she’d done that without thinking. It’s too dark to tell, but he could swear that she’s blushing. “Good night!”

Five stares at his door for a long while after she leaves, remembering her slender, callused fingers on his forehead. His skin feels tingly where she touched him, the warmth from her presence still wrapped up in him, a comforting security blanket.

She came to check on him, because she was worried. She brought him his favorite sandwich. For the second time today, she risked their father’s anger to come after him.

This is why Vanya is his favorite.

Of his brothers, he likes Ben best because Ben is _objectively_ the best. Everyone loves Ben. When it comes to training, he appreciates Diego because at times he’s just as serious as him. Allison is clever and will occasionally provide him with nuggets of wisdom. Klaus is a good partner for mischief and chaos. Luther is the one he can rely the most on in missions.

Vanya is…

Vanya is who he wants to lie with when he’s tired of everyone else. Vanya is the one he seeks first when he discovers something, even the most inconsequential. Vanya is why he pulls pranks on the others almost weekly when they tease her too much. Vanya is the one he worried about when she suddenly got quieter after Reginald put her on medication.

Vanya is the one who stays on his mind, even after she’s left his presence.

Number Seven is his sister. Vanya Hargreeves, on the other hand, is something else entirely.

He’s not quite sure what, just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait!! May turned into a crazy month and I didn't get to work on fic the way I wanted to. But I'm back and updates will be more consistent, this I promise! Thank you to everyone who commented and subscribed - you guys all give me life!!!
> 
> Thank you @luckubus for beta-ing you're an angel on God's hellish earth

Vanya wakes up in the middle of the night, shaken and gasping for air. The wind outside is howling loudly, shaking the shutters of her windows. She curls up in her bed, making herself as small as possible as the images of the most recent nightmare flash in her head.

It begins the way they always begin - her alone, in the dark. Some terrifyingly empty room that swallows her voice every time she tries to speak, only this time Five appears before her, looking at her with sad eyes.

“Five,” she tries to shout but her voice isn’t working. It’s trapped in her throat, suffocating her. It hurts. He turns away from her, disappearing into the darkness and she panics, running after him. But as fast as she runs, she can’t get to him.

He’s gone. Vanished, without a trace of him left. Like he was never here at all.

And then, she wakes up.

Vanya bites her lip. She won’t cry. It’s not real, and she’s much too old to cry over silly nightmares. Still, the idea of Five leaving her behind in the dark… it hurts her, an ache deep inside her chest that resonates throughout the rest of her body.

She doesn’t think there’s anything in the world that scares her more than losing Five.

Five isn’t just her favorite person. It’s not simple favoritism the way Diego loves Mom best or Luther likes Allison best. Vanya _only_ has Five. There’s nobody else in the house who treats her the way Five does. Like a person. Like she matters.

The others don’t treat her badly, per se. Nobody is cruel to her the way Dad is even though sometimes Diego scoffs at her and Luther can be a bit condescending. To the rest, she’s usually an afterthought. None of them actively seek her out unless they need something from her. It stings, but Vanya understands. She’s ordinary, they wouldn’t want to waste their time with her when they have so much going on.

Five’s never been like that.

He might be arrogant with a sharp mouth that grates on the others’ nerves but he’s always looked at her like she was… special. Five’s preferential treatment towards her was the soothing balm that made the stings from her barbed family life bearable. It’s because of Five that she was able to stay sane in this house.

Five might be okay on his own, but Vanya couldn’t survive without him.

 _Calm down. He’s here. He didn’t run away._ When Vanya extended her hand to him, he took it. He didn’t leave. She just saw him yesterday and she’ll see him tomorrow morning. It’ll be fine.

Vanya stays awake, staring up at the ceiling, a kind of indescribable dread swiveling around her chest, a vile tangle in the fear of being abandoned.

When morning comes, Vanya is the first in the bathroom. She grimaces at the dark circles under her eyes and splashes her face with cold water. Maybe she’d managed to get a couple of hours of sleep towards the early hours of the night waxing into morning but her dream is still plaguing her mind. There’s a sudden urge to walk up the stairs to where Five and Ben’s rooms are, creak the door open and just double check to make sure Five’s still in bed.

She’s being ridiculous.

Luther walks into the bathroom, recoiling a little when he sees Vanya staring blankly at her reflection. “Vanya? You’re up early…” Number One isn’t good with breaks in routine and he’s clearly at a loss. Vanya offers him a wan smile.

“I just had to pee. You can shower first,” she offers, sliding by him to walk back to her room. The urge to skip by it and walk up to Five’s room comes back but Grace is in front of her with a sunny smile.

“Good morning dear! You’re up early,” Grace leans forward to peer at Vanya’s face. “You don’t look like you slept very well.”

Vanya shrugs. “I slept okay,” she lies. If she gave the indication that there was something off, Mom would bring her to the medical room and that’s not really something Vanya wants to deal with this morning.

Grace doesn’t look convinced. “Did you take your pill before bed last night?” she asks in a pleasant voice.

Come to think of it, Vanya doesn’t think she did. Yesterday was such a wild day - Five running out, Vanya hurrying after him. Reginald berating her before she did her lessons though honestly the sting of his words was downplayed by her worry for Five, who had collapsed during training and didn’t come down for dinner.

A pill at breakfast, a pill at dinner. Grace used to give them to her with every meal when she was younger, those white tablets a part of Vanya’s daily routine for years and years. When she turned eleven, Reginald had decided she was old enough to take her own pills. “Stay vigilant, Number Seven. Taking care of your body is important.”

She still wasn’t sure what the pills were exactly for, Reginald saying that her emotional temperament needing stabilizing. So, anxiety or something like that. They left her in a kind of muted haze right after she took them. It actually took everything in her to rush after Five last morning, usually too lost in herself to actually do anything until noon during her lessons.

She’d been so focused on bringing him a snack and creeping back to her room without getting caught, her heart thumping with anxiety, that she’d gone straight to bed without taking her pill.

But Mom doesn’t need to know that. “I just don’t think I drank enough water at dinner,” she says, trying to sound convincing. “So I had a bit of a headache.”

Grace hums, and presses her cool hand against Vanya’s forehead. “Well,” she says cheerfully after a few moments. “Make sure to stay hydrated today!”

Vanya relaxes. “Yes, Mom.”

At breakfast, Vanya keeps staring at Five more than usual. Everyone’s on their best behavior today, a direct result from yesterday’s tense morning, but Vanya can’t focus on her food. Her eyes are on Five, his gelled back hair, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table.

He meets her gaze for a split-second while he’s chewing his eggs, raising an eyebrow at her in question. They’re not supposed to talk during meal times but the two of them have adopted a sort of silent communication through expressions. Five is very clearly asking her _“What’s up with you?”_

Vanya drops her gaze, feeling self-conscious with his attention on her. She plays a bit with her food, looking glumly down at her eggs. She’s being so stupid. What would she even tell Five if she did had time to tell him what was wrong? She could picture it now: the haughty eye-roll and scoff combination with “You’re being ridiculous, Vanya.” Because she is. She knows she is.

Still, the image of Five vanishing into the dark right in front of her eyes won’t stop taunting her. 

She can’t stop herself. When they’re finished with breakfast, clearing the table, and on their way outside for morning training, Vanya huddles after Five as he heads to the foyer. On impulse, she grabs his sleeve before he walks out, making him stop in his tracks.

“What?” he asks curtly, looking back at her with an annoyed expression. Some of her distress must show on her face because Five takes one good look at her and softens. The way he does just for her. “Vanya? What’s wrong?”

Her throat feels tight. There’s so much swirling in her head but no words are coming to her. She still doesn’t know what she’d say, anxious at the thought of Five sneering at her insecurities.

Vanya knows she needs Five more than he needs her. The last thing she wants to do is become an annoyance to him.

Instead of saying anything, she just slides her hand down to grab his, squeezing lightly. This is safe, this is normal. Plus it’s an assurance to herself, a physical reminder that Five is real and here. He didn’t leave her. The nightmare isn’t real.

Five looks confused but he squeezes her back. There’s a moment when it looks like he’s going to say something but he pulls away slowly. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?” It’s a promise, she can tell by the look in his eyes. She nods, all the words she didn’t say receding back into her throat.

A crackle of blue energy and he jumps leaving Vanya alone in the foyer, staring blankly at the spot where he stood seconds earlier.

 

* * *

 

The thing is, Vanya is used to nightmares. That terrifyingly empty, dark room haunted her dreams when she was young. The nights she’d wake up, sobbing in distress, the wind howling along with her, Grace would come in with her perfectly painted Stepford Smile and give her another pill. _Here you are Seven, darling, this will help you sleep._

Vanya barely remembers those days but she knows they went by in a foggy haze, unable to focus on anything or anyone. It went on for a year, those half-lived days until little Number Seven finally learns to keep her screams to herself, digging her nails into her palms and biting down onto her lip until she bled from the force of it.

Eventually, Grace takes away that extra pill. But the nightmares remain.

Vanya’s never told Five about them. There are some things that can’t ever be shared, even with the one person she trusts above all. But he knows about her poor sleeping habits, has always known since they were younger.

The year they turn eleven, on a dark stormy night, Seven’s sitting outside of her room, knees drawn up to her chest while she clenches her fists. When she had woken from this nightmare, she felt suffocated in her tiny bed, her tiny room, the walls closing in on her and threatening to crush her with their weight. She needs to get out.

She’s staring aimlessly in the dark, silently going over _Clair de Lune_ in her head when a crackle in the air forms in front of her. There’s a bright flash of blue light and Five appears before her, staggering on his feet, looking winded.

He doesn’t notice her at first, so Seven squints at him in the dark. For a moment, lit up from his power, Seven had seen something vulnerable in Five’s face. A rare sight. The expression of a boy who thought he knew what he was doing but couldn’t come to terms with it. “I thought Dad said you weren’t ready to jump between floors.”

It’s just a whisper but she startles Five regardless. He jumps back, looking around frantically until he sees Seven huddled in her corner. “Holy shit, Seven,” he hisses out. “What the hell are you doing there? You scared the shit out of me.”

The corners of Seven’s mouth turn up in a slight smile. Ever since Five discovered the word ‘shit’ he hadn’t been able to stop using it. “I needed some fresh air,” she jokes, tilting her head at him. She can’t discern his expression in the dark but she bets he’s frowning. His breathing is hard; the spatial jump probably took more out of him than he expected.

“I see,” he responds dryly. Seven doesn’t like lying to him - he’s the only sibling who still pays proper attention to her at this point. The others have built a rapport but Seven only has Five. But it’s embarrassing to admit to the nightmares. Especially to someone as fearless and strong as Five She doubts he ever gets nightmares. She can imagine him scowling at whatever was causing it and making it run away just by swearing at it. She giggles a little at the thought.

She can sense his eyes still on her. A moment of consideration. “I’m getting a midnight snack,” he says finally. “Care to join me?”

Seven is pretty sure it’s later than midnight but she’ll take any distraction she can get. She makes sure to put her hands behind her back as she rises.

Dad’s mentioned something about how Five’s power consumes a lot of energy, hence why Five is hungry all the damn time. He has separate snacks on top of their regular meals and he still has the stomach for a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich and a glass of milk. Five doesn’t care for sour gummies or chocolate nougat but somehow likes this random weird sugary combination. He devours his sandwich in a minute, Seven silently passing him the other half of hers when he’s finished his milk. Her appetite is tiny compared to his.

This isn’t their first after-hours snack-time but Five seems a lot more tired than usual, slumping against the table once he’s done. Figures. Dad tells Five he’s not ready for something and Five immediately does it, regardless of warnings. Typical Five. Reckless with his ambition. Refusing to let others set his limits.

Seven admires him for that. She doesn’t know what it’s like to believe in herself so staunchly, the way Five does.

His eyes are closed. Another rare sight of vulnerability. It’s stupid but she feels a bit special that Five’s willing to show this side of him, the quieter more tempered side, to her without reservations.

She reaches out to brush some leftover crumbs from his mouth. He opens his eyes at her touch, watching her clean him off blearily. Then, his gaze sharpens, narrowing in on her palms. Seven isn’t able to pull away from him quick enough.

Five seizes her hand, staring down at the bloody marks on her palm with wide eyes. “Shit, Seven. What happened?”

She refuses to answer. Five is clever. Her lack of response is telling. The shock in his eyes turn into something else. Something close to pity. Her stomach turns. She doesn’t want his pity. There are plenty of things she wants from her family, especially Five, but pity isn’t one of them.

Seven attempts to tug her hand away from Five’s grip but he won’t let go. He’s silent, looking down at her marred palm. He slowly brushes his thumb against them, an achingly gentle and hesitant touch and Seven bites back a gasp. “Seven.” He calls her name so softly, like he cares about her, she can feel herself start to crumble.

“It’s nothing,” she chokes out before Five can speak again. She doesn’t want to hear what else he has to say. “It’s just. I can’t sleep and I...”

She trails off. She can’t bring up the nightmares. She just can’t. Unconsciously, she’s started to clench her other fist, irritating her little wounds. Five notices, tugging at her other wrist with an alarmed noise.

“Don’t - don’t do that,” he tells her. He’s got both her hands in his now, loose grips around her wrists with her palms turned upwards, exposing them fully to him. Dark red on a pale backdrop. “ _Don’t_ hurt yourself.”

Pain is something Seven is familiar with. She’s got a high tolerance to it. Pain keeps her grounded, and she needs this pain to escape from the nightmares. Five looks up at her with bright eyes, trying to probe past her defenses but Seven won’t budge. Not on this.

She’s expecting her unwillingness to talk will make Five give up. To her surprise, he moves his hands so that they’re against hers, entwining their fingers gently. He squeezes and Seven feels a strange warmth bloom inside her. Five’s hands are dry and smooth. Seven’s never held hands with anyone but Mom.

It’s nice.

“Come find me,” Five tells her, a determined gleam in his eye. “When you can’t sleep. When you want to…” He squeezes again and Seven feels that warmth spread to every inch of her body. “Anytime. We can do this instead. Okay?”

She exhales shakily. “Okay,” she agrees. “But you too.” They’re both surprised by her boldness but Seven keeps going. She doesn’t want to be the only one to use their touch as a comfort. She knows she’s just ordinary, but she can be there for Five too. “For anything. Okay?”

For a moment, Five smiles at her. Another rare sight - that boyishly genuine grin, so unlike his usual smug smirks. “Okay.”

Five doesn’t let go of Seven’s hand until they’re at her door, squeezing her one last time to say goodnight. When she goes to bed, the nightmares leave her alone this time. Five’s touch keeps them far away.

 

* * *

 

He keeps his promise. In the afternoon, while Vanya is practicing her violin in the library, Five appears to her, clearly exhausted. Covered in sweat and shaking. She blinks for a moment, putting her violin down to approach him but he shakes his head, collapsing on the seat next to her.

“I’m fine,” he says before she can ask. He places a hand over his face, tilting his head back on the chair with a sigh. “Seriously. Don’t stop playing.”

Vanya bites her lip, hesitant. She wants to go to him, check up on him, drag him to bed to rest, but Five lifts his hand slightly to peer at her. His eyes are beguiling. “Vanya,” he says again. She can hear the unspoken “please” there.

She knows him well enough.

Vanya picks her violin back up, considering. She prefers Vivaldi over anyone else but knows Five enjoys the dramatic complexities of Bach. She flips through her sheet music until she finds Violin Concerto in A minor, putting her bow to the string and playing. Five lets out a hum in recognition but besides that, for the next few minutes the library is filled with nothing but her music and his ragged breathing.

She throws all her emotions into playing. All her worry for him in training, all her anxiety over her nightmare. There’s some guilt, too, that she’s absorbed in her own problems when Dad is so clearly making Five’s life miserable because of the way he behaved yesterday. Vanya wishes she wasn’t so powerless. She wants to help him.

But she can’t. All she can do for him is play the violin and hopes it gives him some peace. When she’s finished, his breathing has evened out, resting both his hands over his stomach. Like this, he almost looks asleep, but his eyes open slightly as she approaches him.

“I’m fine,” he repeats before Vanya can even ask after him. “Dad’s an asshole, the sky is blue. Nothing new.”

Her bottom lip trembles, despite herself. “You were just on bed-rest yesterday,” she points out, slightly indignant.

Five makes a face. “Please don’t call it bed-rest. I’m not an invalid.”

“No, but you’re only human!” she argues back. “He can’t keep doing this to you!”

He sighs, waving aside her concern. “It’s fine. It should pass in a couple of days. Once he’s done punishing me.” Vanya wants to continue her protests but Five charges on. “Anyways. You were weirder than normal at breakfast. Did something happen?”

Vanya immediately drops her gaze from his curious eyes. Leave it to Five to not let this go. “I had a bad night,” is all she decides to share. It should suffice. He knows her well enough, too.

There’s silence for a moment before Five reaches out for her, grabbing her hand gently. His thumb skims across the top of her palm, seeking any self-inflicted marks. Vanya clutches at his hand, stopping his fingers. “ _I’m_ fine,” she tells him insistently, looking up at him again. “I’m worried about you, Five.”

She watches as something breaks through the placidness of Five’s default stoic expression. Something exhausted. A rare moment of vulnerability.

“Sometimes,” he starts slowly. “I wish you and I could just stay here. You could play your violin and I could work on my equations and nothing else in this stupid house would matter. Nothing Dad wanted, would matter. It’d just be us.”

Heat rises to Vanya’s face. Her mouth feels dry. _Me too,_ is on the tip of her tongue when she hears calls of Five’s name in the distance. Five’s entire body stiffens, and all emotion drops from his face. Back to training. Back into toy soldier mode.

When he gets up, he lets go of Vanya’s hand. Her fingers twitch at the absence of his warmth. “See you at dinner,” he tells her brusquely. Vanya’s heart sinks as she watches him physically gather his bearings; taking a deep breath and clenching his fists, before jumping.

“Me too,” she finally whispers into the quiet. A moment too late. Vanya’s always straggling behind. Her chest feels too full and empty all at once. There’s still more time for her to practice, but Vanya spends the rest of it in a daze. Five’s words replace the music in her mind, repeating in an endless, damning loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated! But also - please let me know what you think of having Vanya's POV. This story was originally meant to be solely in Five's but I'm considering dual POVs now just because it's interesting to me to see how their feelings develop in different ways and also the different ways they might process it. I'll write whatever feels right regardless, but would love to know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dual POVs it is! There's a bit of violence in this chapter, so please take note of that! I've updated the tags. This chapter will start ageing them up but we're only going to briefly touch on 14-15 since 16-17 is where all the fun stuff starts. Also this story has... way more of the siblings than I had planned but you know what? I do what I want!
> 
> Thanks Bri for reading this over!

The weeks that follow are particularly hellish. Reginald’s brutal treatment of Five doesn’t cease and it makes the bitterness in his chest spread into dark, gnarled roots, growing in angry spikes. Each day is a new level of exhaustion, Reginald pushing Five to his limits, making him feel helpless over and over. Five knows what this is. The old man is psychotic. It’s a goddamn punishment, for Five daring to question his authority and try to experiment with his powers outside of Reginald’s iron fist. Crazy control freak. 

And despite Luther’s stern side glances and Ben’s subtle head shakes, Five refuses to roll over like an obedient dog and take whatever Reginald dishes out. No way in hell. Even when he’s seconds away from puking his guts out or about to black out, Five still glares up at his father with defiant eyes, sarcastic venom dripping from his mouth: “This is an excellent training exercise,” he grits out between gasping breaths. “I feel like I’m improving  _ so _ much.”

Reginald’s eyes are as cold as the frigid winter. “Once more, Number Five,” he declares, not rising to Five’s bait even though his mouth is in a firm, contemptuous line. Five’s body might feel weak but his fury is strong, roaring in his body as he forces himself to jump again.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Ben tells him after he and Klaus have to physically drag him to the infirmary to lay down. Five hates displaying weakness, especially in front of his siblings, but he can barely feel his limbs. “Stop baiting him.”

Five rolls his eyes while Klaus chirps with agreement. “Seriously bro, at this rate one of these days you’re just gonna choke on your puke. I don’t want to have to see you as a ghost!”

His tone is lighthearted but there’s a moment where they fall quiet, grimly wondering the same thing in silence: Would Reginald really push one of them to death? It’s sobering to consider.

Logically, Five knows there are merits in what his brothers are saying, even though he would never admit it to their face. He’s not an idiot - he knows all of this is a matter of pride. That all he needs to do is quietly take what Reginald dishes out and he’ll get tired of it in a few days.

But the idea of submitting to that asshole makes his stomach boil. He’s not afraid of him. The others might have a healthy amount of fear but not Five. Reginald doesn’t even have powers like the rest of them, and he’s trying to dictate how to use them. Like he knows Five’s capabilities better than himself.

It’s  _ Five’s _ power. Not his.

He scowls. “I’m not scared of him.”

Ben and Klaus exchange glances, something unspoken passing through them. They’ve always been like that and it makes Five scowl harder as they help him get onto the bed. He must be more exhausted than he thought because he immediately sinks against the pillows, barely restraining his sigh of relief. His brothers hover around him and Five covers his eyes with an arm. “I’m going to bed now, no need to supervise.” He doesn’t say ‘thank you.’ It’s implied.

Klaus leaves first but Ben lingers. “You need to work with Dad, not against him.” Ben’s always quiet and sincere but there’s a slight note of reproach in his voice that has Five pulling his arm away to look at him. “You think it’s bad now but it could get a lot worse. Don’t underestimate him.”

Five’s quiet. Ben never talks about his individual training with the others but they all know it takes place in the basement at night. Afterwards, Ben is usually soaked in blood and completely drained, taking an hour long hot shower and spending the rest of his evening locked up in his room. Vanya always leaves him a book at his door - poetry or something romantic. “Something to remind him of happy things,” she whispers to Five when he catches her doing it.

Ben would know firsthand how brutal Reginald can get. There’s a squeezing sensation in his stomach. Something like guilt. “What else can he do to me?” Five asks tiredly, ever the contrarian. “Like Klaus said - the next step is death.”

Ben sighs. “And you’ll be no help to us in missions if you’re dead, Five.” 

Five shrugs. “You can have my room if you want.”

Ben’s responding gaze is chilling. Five meets it with a stubborn jut of his chin. He knows he’s being unreasonable. Doesn’t mean he’s going to stop. The guilt in his stomach churns. 

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t listen to me,” Ben murmurs to himself when he looks away. “I’ll try to come check on you after dinner okay?”

Five waves him away, covering his eyes again. In his solitude, exhaustion crashes over him in an enormous wave and it’s all too easy to slip into an uneasy sleep. He dreams of everyone dressed in black, gazing silently at a tombstone. ‘Number Five’ is etched onto it. Vanya falls to her knees and weeps.

He wakes up to the sound of sniffling. He blinks blearily, slowly arriving to wakefulness in groggy steps. There’s someone sitting next to him, head bowed, shoulders shaking.  _ Vanya _ .

“Hey,” he croaks groggily and Vanya’s head shoots up, her cheeks streaked with tears. Immediately Five jolts into awareness at the sight of her stricken face. “Vanya? What’s wrong?”

Ben’s warning words come back to him.  _ Don’t underestimate him.  _ Panic settles over him as he considers the possibility of Reginald harming Vanya to get back at him. Five doesn’t care what happens to him but if Vanya got hurt... he wouldn’t know what to do. Anger rises in him just at the thought. He wouldn’t know what to do but he’d make Reginald pay. That much he knows.

Vanya shakes her head, wiping at her face. Five reaches out, clumsily grabbing for her hand in the dark. “Hey.  _ Hey.  _ What happened? Why are you crying?” He blames his distressed tone on the fact that he’s still half-asleep, more vulnerable than usual. 

She lets out a watery laugh. “What  _ happened _ ? Five, this is the third time you’ve been in the infirmary this week. I’m…” she cuts herself off with another tiny sob that pierces Five’s chest. A knife to the heart. Vanya always cries so quietly, not wanting to attract any attention or bother anyone with her tears. It tears him up inside to see her cry. He never knows how to respond. “I’m so worried,” she chokes out. “This isn’t good for you.”

The guilt rises up in him in an unexpected rush, choking his throat. He knows Vanya has been worried, asking about his health, expressing her concern every time they spent time together. Too often he’s fallen asleep in her tiny bed to the sound of her violin and woken up to her worried face, fingers gentle on his forehead.

_ You did that, asshole. You made her cry.  _ A vicious voice spits in his head. Here he is, full of murderous intent against their father, only for the source of her tears to actually be him. 

“I’m okay,” he says weakly, trying to put her at ease. Anything to get her to stop crying. Vanya narrows her eyes at him, glaring slightly through her tears

“You’re  _ not _ okay! You can’t keep going like this!” Five’s taken aback at the anger in her voice. Vanya herself looks startled at her outburst but she doesn’t back down. She grabs his hand, the one that’s still dangling awkwardly after he’d reached out for her. “Please, Five. Ben told me how you’re acting with Dad.”

He blanches. Ben, that fucking traitor. Vanya continues on despite how stiff he’s gotten. “You need to take better care of yourself.” She squeezes his hand hard enough to hurt. “Promise me you’ll stop.”

Five inhales sharply. “Vanya - “

She sniffles, another wave of tears trickling down her cheeks. Five’s never felt so desolate before. As children, her tears always irritated him because Five normally knew how to solve everything. But he never figured out how to get her to stop crying. He untangles his hand from her solid grip to wipe at her face. Vanya closes her eyes and shudders. “Please. Promise me, Five.”

He’s never heard her like this, voice broken and desperate, almost begging him. How can he refuse? “Alright,” he rasps helplessly. His thumb brushes against her wet cheek. Vanya leans into his touch with a sigh. “Alright. I promise.”

The next day when Reginald pushes Five through his grueling, nonstop spatial jumps, he bites his tongue hard enough so that blood fills his mouth and gets through them without saying a single word. Reginald regards him coolly once he’s done, as if he’s waiting for Five to snap back at him like usual. He can feel his siblings watching them with wary eyes. He clenches his teeth and meets Reginald’s gaze stonily, remaining silent for the first time in weeks.

“Take a break Number Five,” is all his father says to him as he walks away towards Luther. Five closes his eyes and inhales. Vanya’s quiet little voice echoes in his head.  _ Promise me, Five. _

She’s the only one who could ever push him into making such a promise. She’s the only one whose tears and disappointment he cannot stand. 

Somehow this knowledge unsettles him more than he expects.

 

* * *

The year they turn fourteen, is the year Reginald starts weekly missions. Before, missions came around once a month at best, Reginald making them a wildly public affair. Apart from that first bank robbery, The Umbrella Academy has been involved in a number of natural disaster rescues, hostage situations, and most popular, public shootings. Five isn’t sure how he feels about their team, meant to save the world, being paraded as a PR spectacle. He smiles at the news cameras along with everyone else but it’s  _ weird _ when fangirls and fanboys start arriving as well, all decked out in Umbrella Academy attire. Where did they even get those? Is Dad running a store? Making a profit off their faces? How annoying. 

Reginald adds media training to their routine. Allison is a natural, Luther also taking point as Dad’s Golden Boy but Five hates it. He finds it pointless to memorize standard news friendly replies, get interview preparation, learn what’s appropriate to say. The latter is mostly for Klaus. Diego hates it even more than Five, stuttering and stammering over his mock interviews, Reginald losing his temper with him every time.

“What’s even the point?” Five groans after a particularly exhausting session. “Isn’t it enough that we save the day, we have to talk to them too? Can’t they just… take pictures and go?”

Allison rolls her eyes at him. “The Academy’s image matters, Five.”

To hell with their image. 

But Five grits his teeth and bears with it. Puts on a face for every interview, magazine shooting, and radio appearance. Pogo wants to put them on TV eventually which thrills Allison. It mostly makes Five want throw himself off a building.

Then, after a pretty good if albeit messy record, they get a big mission. Absolutely no time to prepare, the alarms ringing and throwing them into action, with very little information. It’s a big one, a Satanic cult invading the local university with an array of dangerous weapons, putting it on lockdown. Before that, Five thought he was well accustomed to violence. He’d grown up with it after all. He’d been able to execute all their prior missions without any major missteps. He’d turned a man’s gun on himself, snapped some bones, knocked some teeth out. He’d watched Luther and Ben tear people apart, Diego throwing his knives into their eyes and neck

But nothing prepares any of them for the level of slaughter they come across. When they arrive at the lecture room, half the students are already dead, their bodies cut up and spread across the floor. The remaining are all huddled in the back, screaming in the back. Ben loses control and unleashes The Horror on the culprits with an angry, pained roar. Luther backs him up trying to keep things under control.

Things do not stay under control. Five and Diego take point on gathering the remaining hostages, herding a bunch of sobbing, trembling students to safety. He pointedly does not look at any of the bloodied, mutilated corpses on the floor, trying to repress the bile rising in his throat. It wouldn’t do to throw up when there are people that need to be rescued.

Klaus isn’t so lucky. He’s doesn’t engage at all, slumping in a corner and vomiting violently at all the dead corpses, their ghosts presumably surrounding him begging him for help. Screaming at him, judging by the way he curls up into a ball and weeps “No, no, no” repeatedly.

Allison is attempting to soothe some of the distressed victims. She’s not doing so great - they’re all older than them, shaken and sobbing at the sight of their dead classmates. None of them respond well to teenagers trying to tell them what to do. Screams erupt at the sight of The Horror and it’s a struggle to keep everyone from scattering. “ _ Don’t _ run!” Five snaps, jumping to keep people huddled in the group. This only invokes more screaming and his stomach drops. They came here to help but the disaster of the situation keeps escalating with every minute. He can’t see Diego’s eyes behind the mask but his brother’s mouth is twisted in a grimace.

“I heard a rumor,” Allison’s voice rings out, edged with panic and Five and Diego immediately slap their hands over their ears to cancel out the effect, “that you all calmed down and stayed quiet!”

The crowd immediately falls silent. Five uncovers his ears. Ben’s finished, soaked in the blood of the cult members, on his knees looking down at the ground. Klaus is still sobbing and gagging in the corner. Luther is standing at the center of the room, hands spread out, looking almost helpless. It makes Five want to be sick.

“W-What the h-h-hell Allison?” Diego turns to their sister, breaking the grim silence. “You can’t j-just rumor the  _ whole _ crowd!”

“What do you suggest I do?” Allison defends herself, crossing her arms over her chest. They’re both visibly agitated, continuing to argue while the crowd remains stock still. The mission is done - the perpetrators died bloody justified deaths and the hostages are safe and sound. But Five doesn’t feel any sense of satisfaction. If this is a victory, it’s a hollow one, tainted with ugly, dirty blood. 

For the first time since they started doing missions, Five feels like they’ve bitten more off than they can chew.

“Shut up,” he interjects sharply, cutting right into their fight. The two of them turn to him, twin expressions of frustrated anger on their face. “This isn’t helping, you morons. We need to get these people out of here.”

“Right.” Golden Boy is back, walking over to them with bloodied fists. Five notes the false bravado in his voice. Even Number One isn’t strong enough to shake this off. “Allison… I want you to go out first. Be the first face the news reporters see.” He hesitates. “Don’t mention the rumor.”

Five watches Allison’s jaw go tight. She’s not used to being reprimanded, not even in the miniscule way Luther does it. She turns around on her heel and stomps away. Luther sighs and turns to them. “Diego, guard the hostages okay? Take them straight to the ambulance. Make sure nobody gets close to them.”

For once, Diego doesn’t talk back to Luther. He guides the silent, blood-stained crowd, murmuring softly to them, not a trace of his stutter. When they’re alone, Luther takes off his mask. His eyes look exhausted. Five follows his gesture, the two of them contemplating for a moment the grisly scene with matching stoic expressions.

Then the moment is over. Luther sighs, putting his mask back on. “You get Ben, I get Klaus?” This is not Number One commanding him as the unofficial leader. This is Luther, his brother, asking him for help taking care of their other brothers. 

Five nods, blinking to Ben’s side in an instant. He places a gentle hand on his shoulder, not caring about the gross mixture of blood and mucus that gets all over him. “Hey. Let’s go. It’s over.”

He can hear Luther murmuring softly to a weeping Klaus. “Get me out of here, get me out of here,” he begs. “Luther I can’t, they’re all  _ screaming _ \- “

Luther hoists Klaus up over his shoulder and Five drags an unresponsive Ben up to his feet. They’re going through the back to avoid any unwanted eyes. They all have enough media training to know that the Umbrella Academy can’t be seen like this.

Predictably, Reginald yells at all of them. Post mission meetings are usually full of his criticism, bringing up any slight mistakes, poking at all the areas they’re weak in. None of them are ever good enough for his standards. But today he’s completely incensed, full blown shouting, deeming them all incompetent. Luther, for losing control of the situation. Ben, for not keeping it together. Allison, for poor damage control. Klaus, for being useless, useless, useless -

Five clenches his teeth so hard he can feel them grinding. Immediate extraction of survivors and termination of the fuckers who killed the other students. He thinks that they did well enough. He doesn’t know what they would’ve done differently.

_ What would’ve you done old man? _ He thinks hatefully, looking up at Reginald’s furious face as he continues to reprimand them.  _ If you think you know so much better, why aren’t you out there with us? _

Luther bows his head and accepts all criticism silently. Allison’s eyes are shiny with angry, frustrated tears. Ben and Klaus are both carefully blank. Diego won’t even look at him.

They’re still all covered in blood.

“Get out of my sight,” Reginald spits out, disgusted. “You’re all dismissed. We’re to pick up your slack first thing in the morning. Every single one of you.”

With that, they all shuffle out of his office, door slamming shut behind them. Usually post mission time is fun - besides Reginald giving his “report” and Grace cleaning up whoever’s hurt, they have free time to do whatever they want. Sometimes they spend it together, Luther putting on a record while Allison and Klaus chatter loudly, Five setting up a game of Risk with Diego and Ben. Vanya joins them after she finishes her lessons, Five scooting over so she can sit next to him, a quiet and solid presence. 

None of them are in any mood for that. Ben ignores Grace’s concerned request to come to the infirmary with her, walking straight to the bathroom for a shower. Allison rushes off to her room, Luther hot on her heels with a pained expression. Klaus sags against Diego who sighs, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Mom? C-Could we get some hot chocolate?”

Grace, lost at the sight of all her children covered in blood but without requests for treatment, brightens a little. “Sure honey! I’ll whip some up for all of you!”

“Bring mine and Vanya’s together,” Five instructs tiredly, jumping to her room immediately. Usually he’d give her the courtesy of knocking before entering but he’s too drained for that. Vanya’s sitting on her bed, reading a book, looking up with surprise when Five appears.

“Five!” Vanya gasps, sitting up. “Are you ok - you’re covered in  _ blood _ !” She’s shrill with alarm, putting aside her book.

“It’s not mine.” Maybe he should’ve cleaned up before heading over. His jumpsuit is caked with blood and it’s drying in uncomfortable places. Vanya studies him for a moment before she gets up. Distantly, Five notices that he’s finally taller than her, being able to look down at the top of her head. She gently guides him over to her chair, pushing him to sit.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Five leans back in the chair and closes his eyes, tugging the mask off. He’s so tired. He wants to crawl into bed and stay there for an entire week. He wants to get into the shower and scrub the memory of today out of his brain, his body. But he finds he has absolutely no energy to do anything but just sit and breathe, painfully conscious of his blood pumping in his ears.

There’s a warm wet touch on his face. He opens his eyes to see Vanya with a wet towel and his pajamas in her hands. “Let’s clean you up a little, okay?” Her voice is so gentle that Five just lets her wipe his face and neck clean without protest. He swallows when he sees her pale hands stained with blood. He stands up, taking the towel from her and unzipping his suit to take care of the rest. Vanya turns around as he wipes furiously at the blood on his bare body. It’s a piss-poor half-assed job and his skin is still stained red but it’s the best he can do for now. When he deems himself acceptable, he throws his pajamas on, knowing they’ll probably get messy with blood. It’s fine. Grace can burn them later.

He heads over to Vanya, turning her around so that he can wipe at her red hands. The towel is ruined for good so it’s not very effective anymore but he rubs at her regardless, determined to erase the nasty hue. Why won’t it come off? It needs to come off. Vanya’s hands can’t be like this.

“Five, Five it’s okay,” she soothes him, stopping his motions. Her fingers wrap around his wrists, red on red on red, and Five realizes he’s trembling. He opens his mouth to say anything, a joke, an apology,  _ something,  _ but a terrible little noise comes out of him instead. Wounded, like an animal in pain. Vanya’s mouth drops open for a moment, but she moves immediately, tugging him to her bed.

“I’ll get it dirty,” he says dumbly but he goes easily anyways, not strong enough to deny himself of her comfort. She sits up against the wall and he collapses against her, head resting on her chest. This is a first. Physical contact isn’t anything new between them but it’s usually limited to hand holding and gentle fleeting touches. Nothing remotely like this. 

The last time he gave her a hug was over two years ago, before The Umbrella Academy officially debuted. The day they got their tattoos. He remembers it stung like a bitch, the worst pain he’d ever been in. “The inside of the wrist is particularly sensitive,” the tattoo artist had told them cheerfully before lining them up to viciously mark their skin with his needle. Every single one of them cried, even Luther who usually tries to put a brave face. 

Five had jumped right after he’d finished, not wanting the others to see his tears. He’d surprised Vanya, who had been drawing an umbrella tattoo on her own wrist with sharpie. He still remembers the shock mixed with pity, stronger than the pain, at the look on her face when she pulled her sleeve over her fake tattoo, red with misery and embarrassment. Ordinary Vanya, always on the outside looking in, not included in training, not included in family meetings. Not included in the Academy. 

It was the first time he’d ever hugged anybody, at least to his recollection. Perhaps he hugged Vanya or Ben when they were children. He couldn’t remember. But he’d been driven by instinct, an urge to provide her some sort of comfort. A reminder that even though Dad constantly excluded her, Five still considered her family, above anyone else. He had awkwardly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hissing in pain at the way the fabric of her shirt rubbed at his fresh tattoo. He didn’t dare pull away though, not when Vanya immediately pressed her face into the crook where his shoulder met his neck.

She’d trembled in his arms, trying to keep the tears at bay. Five only held her tighter. “It doesn’t matter,” Five had whispered fiercely in her hair. “You’re still my sister and no stupid tattoo is going to change that.” 

Now it was Vanya’s turn to hold him, rubbing her hands in slow, circular motions on his back. Five’s practically on top of her, body leaning towards hers, face buried in her chest, wraps looped lightly around her waist. She smells clean, the soap that they all use along with the natural scent of her skin. It’s comforting. He’s dirtying her, mixing his filthy bloodied scent with hers but Five can’t bear to drag himself away from her. He needs this, more than he thought he did, and Vanya is willing to give it to him.

He doesn’t deserve her.

She isn’t saying anything because she knows that there’s nothing to say. Vanya’s good like that. Just holding him up with her small hands so that he doesn’t burst at the seams. 

One hand comes up to stroke at his hair and he shuts his eyes tightly, feeling something inside him open up, raw and aching. A bleeding wound. If he could, he’d stay in her arms forever, slowly healing to the sound of her heartbeat. No more missions, no more blood. Just him and Vanya, the rest of the world pushed away in the distance.

It’s a terrible, awful thought but Five can’t help himself. He’s  _ glad _ Vanya is ordinary. He’s thankful that she doesn’t have to see the shit that he does. He’s relieved that the only blood that stains her is the blood he selfishly smears on her. He knows that it hurts her deeply to be the only ordinary one in the family, and it must be some kind of betrayal to be happy about the one thing that drives all her insecurities.

But Five is fiercely, stupidly grateful. She will always be safe and clean from the horrors the rest of them have to deal with. She will never crumple like Klaus or go blank like Ben or drive herself mad like him. She will remain utterly Vanya, ordinary in the very best way.

Vanya deserves to be spared from the world’s ugliness. She deserves to live a regular life - as regular as one can be when born as a Hargreeves. Five will fight for her right to be at peace, the way the rest of them can’t be.

_ I’ll protect you,  _ he thinks to himself. A strange oath to make when he’s in  _ her _ arms right now, Vanya providing  _ him _ solace. He is the one who is damaged, doomed to a life of violence and blood. But Vanya? Sweet Vanya who cries when the rest of them get hurt? She doesn’t deserve that.

Five pulls away from her chest to look up at her. Her eyes are dark with concern and sadness but when their gazes meet, her lips quirk up in a small smile. His favorite smile. “Hi,” she says softly, smoothing his hair off his forehead. He pushes his head into her hand and she does it again. “Mom brought us hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows for you.”

It sounds tempting. But a part of Five despairs at letting go of her. He doesn’t respond, just puts his face back into her chest, holding her tighter. Vanya hums, stroking his hair. “Okay, okay. Five more minutes, Five.”

She loves saying that to him, delighting in the way he rolls his eyes every time she does it, snickering behind her hand. For the first time today, Five feels his mouth pull into something resembling a smile. Pressed against her skin, it feels like a secret. 

“Five more minutes,” he agrees, voice muffled.

Vanya might be ordinary but she is the epitome of everything good in life - gentle, sweet, and kind. She doesn’t have to be special, not the way Dad claims the rest of them are, when she can just keep being Vanya. There’s nothing wrong with that. He can’t stand the idea of her doing what the rest of them do. Vanya’s not meant for this life. It’s better for her to continue to stay at the sidelines, safe and sound. Her staying by his side, untainted, healing him with her pure presence.

This is the way it should be. And Five will do everything in his power to make sure things stay like this, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I appreciate your feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr!](https://igpitn.tumblr.com)


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